heaven straining at the seams
by attack on titan
Summary: this would be a sin, anywhere but here. -jupitersaturn


"I don't like playing second fiddle," she tells him when they meet. "It's not in my blood." Back then, she'd been dressed in the clothes of a Jubilife hooker - an insubstantial jacket, nothing but a lacy bra, a figure-hugging miniskirt, and stiletto heels that could have doubled as weapons. Her lashes, mascara-heavy and sharp, shadowed a shrewd, cunning gaze, her legs crossed and a cup of espresso cooling before her. She smiled, a knife-slash across her mouth.

"You?"

"The same reason, I suppose. Altogether, it's not a bad investment-"

Her laugh, a harsh smoker's rasp, hurt his eardrums. "Oh fuck, you sound like a damn businessman when you say shit like that."

He remembers it now, years later: the room, the coffee, the woman who'd had ice in her skin.

.

Stationed in Eterna, she dabbles in local politics. Her poison spreads, soon enough, and all the regular thugs, the crime gangs, they bow at her feet. She cuts off their heads and uses the bodies as footrests, giggling while she does it.

Granted, her attitude isn't one of the most perverse things on the job he's seen. But it's sloppy, her methods, and it's vapid and senseless. He kills with the gloves on, eliminating fingerprints. She likes to mark her territory and let everyone else know that it's _hers_, and that's where he has to step in.

"Tasteless," he says as they're leaving the office of a politician, whose body must now be cooling at an acceptable rate, given the fact that they put a bullet in his chest. "Did you really have to be so crude? I'd have handled the thing more cleanly, but you - you just blundered in, with no regard for being overheard. Cyrus won't be pleased."

"Told you I was a bitch, didn't I?" She lights a cigarette and takes a drag, blowing plumes of smoke at his face. "One thing, Saturn, that you have to know about me: don't try to give me your sloppy seconds and pretend that it's the first-rate stuff. I'll know, and I'll have your ass on a platter if you try me." Flicking ashes at the floor, she strolls out, saying, "Next time, stay out of my way."

.

She has a habit of leaving her makeup on his face, a memento of the fleeting moments in-between. Jupiter, bless her name, kisses him in the control room when it's just the two of them, straddles him right on the chair. She smells like poison fumes and seduction, her fingers creeping up his neck, her hips bucking against his knees, and there's just those goddamn jumpsuits separating them when all he wants to do is bury all of the world in her and never look back.

_Oh god what are we doing? _his mind tries to rationalize. _What the fuck are we even doing?_

But, despite appearances, rationality has always taken a backseat to ambition, and he allows himself the pleasure of abandonment. He can still smell her on him later, when they've changed and cleaned the shitfaced looks off of their faces. He can still feel her, the sensation of her, in his dreams, beyond the control room and the liaisons, far away into some other place. All too tangible, yet painfully distant. He thinks, without some sardonic amusement, that this kind of thing would be a sin anywhere but here.

.

Jupiter smiles, the wicked coil of tight lips over sharp teeth, her hands clutching a Pokeball as she is inches away from obliterating the sorry remains of some idiot yuppie scientist who pissed her off when she was in one of her bad moods. Her Skunktank hisses, nasty beast that it is, and he has to put a hand on her shoulder and physically drag her from the room; she doesn't make much of a fight, but he can feel the fury churning inside her, past that smooth marble facade she calls a face.

"Stupidity," he snaps. "That's what it is. That man was one of ours, one of _yours_-"

"He was an incompetent fool," she retorts. "He's done nothing but drag our energy production down these past months, killing our output and increasing our input every time he gets the fucking numbers wrong. He's had it coming for a long time."

Saturn shakes his head in disgust. "You just don't get it, do you? It's more than that. How long do you think the cleanup will take? What if there was someone watching? You should've been more careful, Jupiter. Cyrus won't be happy if these slip-ups keep happening." He frowns. "You want to take out your anger on some poor sap? Take your pick; this shithole of a city's got more Candy addicts and drug whores than anywhere else in Sinnoh. But you'd best be careful while doing it. It's your fifth infraction in less than a week. Keep it up, and you'll find yourself back on the streets in enemy territory."

She drags one long, purple fingernail down his cheek, mocking. "Oh, boohoo, the boss isn't pleased." Her mouth forms a nasty sneer. "It's my district, so I call the shots. He can come down here himself and eat it, if he's so desperate to micromanage every damn aspect of the organization. Leave my duties to me, and stop being daddy's little cocksucking pet. Sycophancy doesn't suit you, _Saturn._"

Jupiter tosses her hair arrogantly over as she whirls away, bootheels rapping against the linoleum tiles, and by the time the door to the lab slams he's shaking all over.

.

They're dispatched to each of the three lakes to retrieve the fae residing within the underwater caverns. Mars gets Twinleaf's Mesprit, he's assigned Azelf, and Jupiter is off to capture Uxie.

Regrouping at headquarters, he's out of breath, the sound of two tons of dynamite still ringing in his ears, and the stench of dead fish clinging to his suit. Mars' seems to have gone the most smoothly; their objectives are all currently being suspended in stasis within the Veilstone branch's subterranean labs, at the lowest levels of the buildings. It's Level 5 security, and he's not too keen on going down there even to look over his spoils. Jupiter cleans blood off of her gloves and he pretends he doesn't notice that she's doing it.

.

In the end, he remains behind while the Coronet Plan takes place. Communications jamming, barring police and government interference, making sure that they have arrested the region's complete attention and diverted it elsewhere while the procedures happen - that is his job. Mars and Jupiter are given the task of accompanying their boss to the mountaintop, essentially acting as glorified bodyguards. Cyrus wants someone who's not some piddling grunt to witness the apex of his achievement; naturally, not all of them can go. He has to stay at the base and carry out the boring work, and truthfully, he's perfectly content with the lack of an invitation to the festivities.

Jupiter brushes against him on the way out. "Have fun," she laughs, pulling her coat further over her shoulders, freshly applied rouge red and stark against the pale white of her cheeks. She looks grotesque, a harlequin.

"Don't let the door hit your ass when you leave," he shoots back, idly inputting code into a flickering green monitor. "Are you sure that you aren't going to be too cold?"

"The cold's the least of my worries. Besides, I wouldn't miss this for the world," Jupiter grins. "Enjoy second place. Or rather, third place, since even that bitch Mars got a ride to the top." She lets out an airy titter.

His stomach's fluttering, but he keeps his composure all the way until he hears the helicopter take off.

.

The initial outcry from the mountain is hard to detect. Sinnoh must feel _something_, at least: the air must be heavier, the sun not as bright, the faintest shimmer passing through the sky. He checks his watch and finds that the arms are simply spinning out of control, looping back and forth.

Ascending the elevator to the master control desk, he looks out the windows and sees the atmosphere turned black as pitch, streams of multicolored light weaving through the darkness, bizarre howls echoing from the worlds above and beyond. Pandora's Box has been opened; all the old gods are awake now, and braying for blood.

A sick twist of fear rams through his gut, and he wonders if his colleague is truly alright.


End file.
